Collision
by sierralim91
Summary: The moment his sword clashed with her gunblade, she could feel the friction seep from her death grip on its handle to the depth of her bones. They have never met before. But this is the moment where everything starts to change - for him and for her. Oneshot.


I don't know why I wrote this, but I think my imagination of these two became a bit too vivid to remain in my head. This was 100% spontaneously written. And it's purely about these two, and no one else. If you want adventure, you're better off reading something else. This focuses on _their _thoughts, _their _romance. That's all. And it's a oneshot. And I doubt I'll be doing a crossover story on these two again; not unless a brilliant idea comes up, as I do ship Lightning with other characters too.

Please note that this is AU. So expect everything about this story to be AU, except that I promise that I'll try to make sure Cloud and Lightning remain in-character as much as possible. (I'm basing Cloud on the film _Advent Children_, and Lightning on FFXIII, of course.)

... I shouldn't have started playing FFXIII.

* * *

**Collision**

_Didn't want to make a mess  
Didn't want to feel again  
This heart has had enough_

The moment his sword clashed with her gunblade, she could feel the friction seep from her death grip on its handle to the depth of her bones. The sparks that flew from the forceful push of metal against metal, and his cold gaze, trained on her every move, made her feel far more afraid than she had facing a big monstrous machine, though she never revealed the fear she felt. She didn't know who he was. But he looked dangerous. Even from far. And to think, she couldn't even see his entire face. His eyes were hidden behind thick black goggles, making him seem like an alien, more psychotic than the rest of the evil creatures she had encountered in her long and outstretched past. Her crystalline pupils burst out in fury, and she purposefully growled at him, staring at him harder than she had ever done while fighting a person who, though human, fought like he had superhuman strength. The very sword that he wielded looked like it weighed quadruple her body weight. Why didn't he even have the decency to reveal who he was? If she knew who she was fighting, she'd feel a lot better. She'd be able to unpack the probable weaknesses of her challenger in a much more efficient manner. But nothing seemed to be working. It looked as though she was just clanging swords with this man, looking no stronger than any male she had met before. But when she charged at him, she regretted it for the first time ever, realising that she had underestimated his power. He was moving with great consistency and rhythm, but he was in fact acting defensively; as though he'd rather not fight her – as though he'd rather not duel with her, because she was _a woman._

And despite her aggravation and obvious anger directed at him, he did not respond the same way. He simply defended himself, protecting his body from injury and harm while inflicting very little to hers. He was able to prevent her from trying to hurt himself or even herself in the process. He didn't quite understand why she suddenly came at him. Who was she? What was she trying to do? Who did she think he was? She was slim, agile, and very cunning, but she was also more impressive than any female soldier he'd ever come in contact with. He ignored pretty much any girl who passed by him, but as he fought her, he took quick half-seconds in between his slices to memorise the outlook of this woman who had the audacity to think she could defeat him. All he could see out of her was an aura of red, fiery frustration. The strawberry-coloured tint in her hair was the most unique part of her; strands of it billowing all around her face as she turned and jumped.

The collision of weapons didn't last as long as she thought it would. In fact, he overcame her in a flash, according to her standards. When his Buster Sword dove down into the ground barely inches away her face and he was almost on top of her, pinning her onto the soft earth beneath, she actually felt sorry for attacking a complete stranger out of her anger. She needed to control herself a lot better. She was just so upset. She had lost so many people in her life; so many members of those she considered 'family' were gone, forever, or even if it wasn't in eternity, it was far too long to consider. She was weak, and though she denied herself the chance to believe that she was not the cold-hearted adversary she once was, she knew it was not long before someone would come along to confirm that fact. After all, she was just looking to fight off people whom she believed was dodgy. Who asked him to start riding his motorcycle into her territory, looking like a gangster? She knew it was her fault though. She knew it was all her.

And she knew she was wrong. She had been thinking the worst of everyone for so long, and then just when she thought she could start believing that people weren't as bad as she had been trained to think for her entire life, people who mattered to her either died, disappeared, or were too settled in a life that was foreign now to her after the scarred journey that was her twenty-one years of experiences. He didn't look so bad after he had very smartly avoided her slashes at him and successfully managed to thrust her onto the ground. She noticed his blond hair for the first time, spiked in different directions and somehow holding its shape. His skin was fair for a man, but his arms were very clearly toned and built firmly of muscle. His lean shape betrayed the amount of force he could exert, for she was definitely stuck underneath him.

He hovered over her, one hand on the soil beside her left arm and the other grasped on his sword. She looked at him – hard. Her mouth was still set in a very thin line, refusing to reveal any emotion. She couldn't understand what he was thinking or what he was trying to do – but he didn't look like he was one bit angry, just the opposite of what she was feeling. How could someone be so much at peace when _duelling_? He was like ice, and she like fire.

He wanted to comprehend why someone like her was so furious at everything. He sensed this from her as he looked into the icy blue stare that didn't seem to match her ferocity at him. He imagined someone like this would have dark eyes, not the kind that had a colour matching his. Before letting her loose, he removed the black goggles that masked his true face and allowed his vision to trace the blood red cape that was swept artfully on the ground around her legs, up to her pink lips and her clear skin, until his bright oceanic eyes finally met hers.

She didn't know what to think for a few seconds. The last thing she expected was for him to hold a gaze so sincere and yet so unmistakably unashamed – and of course, the colour of those eyes. She could see the long eyelashes he had – he had a very feminine face, in fact, but somehow his demeanour and impression erased any other thought she had about him having a 'girly' look, and she immediately knew that he was handsome, despite how much she hated to think that he was. He was steeled; and as unwilling as her to show his feelings in that moment, but he remained as steadfast as her. After moments of sizing each other up, he decided to get up. He released her from his hold and stood, rising to his full height in his heavy black boots. Right before he got up, she noticed how sharp his features were; the thin blond hair framing his face at all the right directions, the straight nose, and the thin lips. Still remaining gruff, however, she didn't want to let any part of her guard down and took to getting up the moment he seemed to let her go.

As he stood, he didn't say a word; he simply looked out towards the horizon, seemingly deep in thought. She wanted to say something – possibly, to apologise for her bad behaviour that caused the fight – but she didn't know how to. She wasn't one for words, unless she was really angry. And all that anger had dissipated somewhat, leaving ashes. She was still annoyed, but mostly with herself, all over again. Then she just forced herself to talk so that she could just get over this situation and forget she ever met this person who wasn't a villain even though he could be mistaken for one in all that dark clothing.

"I apologise for what I did," she forced herself to say, her voice distant and unemotional. "And thank you. I'll be on my way."

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone as emotionless as hers. He matched her, pitch for pitch. She didn't know how anyone could do that. She thought she was the only one who could. He didn't show it to her, but he was thinking of her. Of whether he had ever met her. And he couldn't. And somehow, after learning about how to be a better person through his previously arrogant attitude, he wanted to know how he could meet a person so much alike who he used to be.

She stopped in her tracks, surprised at his voice, so resonant and gentle. He was smooth; so much more than she was, and she partially hated him for it already. She always disliked people who could hold their composure better than her anyway. She had done so well to do that in the past, but the hurt had built up and she lost it, slowly. After all, she always used to be the one to lose her temper first before anyone else. She contemplated answering his question. She wasn't sure if she wanted to. Maybe. Maybe not. Why should she even reveal herself? Her name? What was it to him?

"Lightning," she eventually said, looking away. "And why do you need to know?"

He didn't reply for some time. "You really need to calm down. You won't get anywhere being that angry," he said, very thoughtfully. He began walking back towards his motorcycle. His back was now towards her, his figure getting further.

"Wait," she motioned, speaking firmly. "You didn't tell me who you are."

He looked back at her, a few feet away. "You didn't ask."

She let out a sharp sigh. "Alright. Who are you?"

His intense gaze was still fixed on her.

"Cloud."

Then he just turned and continued walking.

_Who is this guy?_, she thought. He annoyed her to a certain extent. His calm composure broke hers, and he was able to read her easier than she preferred. She was not a vulnerable person, and she had never been. Why did he act as though he cared, yet removing himself from her circumstance? Since when was it a stranger's business to give advice to her, then just leave?

She decided she needed to find out. Normally it wasn't her business to poke into other people's lives, particularly those of people she didn't even know, but he was _different._ Different from any other man she had met. He never lost his cool. He was fearless, so unafraid of anything and anyone, even death, possibly. He was calm amidst chaos, and the way he held himself – so mysterious, unwilling to give her an opening into his thoughts – was so foreign to her, because normally she was the one exuding this type of confidence towards others, not others portraying this outlook towards her. And yet he was similar. He was very distanced from people, much alike her. He was able to conceal his expressions shockingly well, also alike herself. And he was a serious person – trained to be disciplined, as she was, too.

So she ran after him, coming to a stop as she turned to face him. She then found that he was just about her height; perhaps barely a few centimetres taller than her. She faced him, her face inches away from his, chest-to-chest.

His brow furrowed and he looked at her, his lips still set in a thin line. "What do you want?"

She was uncertain what to say to a person completely unknown to her. "Cloud, is it?"

He gave a short nod, blinking both his eyes. "Let me guess," he began, his expression serious. "You decided you need my help with something."

She looked down to the ground, gritting her teeth. "I'm not a person who depends on others," she muttered. "But I need to ask you a few things, if that's possible."

He huffed, unable to believe that this same woman who just wanted to kill him was asking for his help. But he studied her, then answered,

"No one says you have to depend on the person you ask for help," he replied simply. "You're just asking, after all."

He wasn't looking at her, more like talking to the ground. She, on the other hand, was still staring at him, daring him to be more than just the collected persona he was portraying.

"Why do you act like you want to help, yet pretend as though you don't want to get involved?" she asked, challenging him to show who he was. She had been brave enough to step up to him to talk – he was more of a coward, walking away.

He didn't reply, his stature remained unmoving, unrelenting. He didn't want to get involved with this woman. She was right. He had had enough with his heart constantly hurting because of loving people who seemed to fade out of his life. His steely reserve was crafted out of the need to prevent anyone from trying to break through that barrier that held him together. He needed the comfort of knowing that everyone would just be passers-by, and no one would need to rely on him, or he rely on anyone. He didn't know any other way than this anymore. He just knew that this was the only way to stop the people he loved from getting hurt – they just couldn't be close to him. He couldn't afford it. He decided that it was best to, maybe, live alone for the rest of his life. He didn't need any other companions. Not anymore. He left all his friends behind, those dead and alive.

How was he to tell her all this? Why was she barging into his life like that? Who did that? Why was she so straightforward? So bold? Why didn't she just ignore him and go on her own way like she first said she would? Why didn't she just leave him alone? Why, was she trying to break him? What would she know of his life anyway? Why should she care?

The thoughts flooded his mind for what seemed to him like an eternity, and he didn't know how long he was staying silent in front of her. Her forehead creased, and she stood with her right hand on her hip, waiting for him to answer. Suddenly, she saw the pain in his eyes when he looked down at the little specks of grass peeking through the earth. She saw the echo of her pain in his eyes; the same suffering she knew so well. She felt the difficulty that he endured, and realised it matched her tribulations. She experienced a jolt in her body in realisation that amidst the silence resonating between them, she found someone as broken as she was – though she showed her brokenness in releases of pent-up rage, he showed his in the vacuum of space when he could say no words and time stopped. When he didn't say anything for a long time – probably longer than she was willing to wait for – she began speaking again.

"You know," she started saying, in a much softer tone than she took on before. Her previous display of annoyance and agitation seemed to fade from her now-changed behaviour. "I don't normally do this. I'm not a conversationalist. I don't talk much."

_Me too. _

"I really don't know why I'm doing this, honestly," her mature voice continued. "We've just met. But I need someone to help me with something. And I think you need my help too, if you were to be honest with yourself."

_How did you know? How would you know anything about me?_

"And we may be very different people," she breathed, talking very seriously. "Since you look like the prop–"

_Not as different as you think._

"Lightning," he spoke, interjecting her monologue.

When he said her name, she stopped immediately. Somehow, hearing her pronounce her name and how it rolled of his tongue so eloquently, with his suave accent, was enough to make the hairs on her arm stand up straight and snap her out of her reverie.

"Trust me," he said, finally meeting her gaze. "We're not as different as you think."

"In fact," he continued, "I think you're as desperate as I am."

She was taken aback at that judgment. So much for her softer side and motherly instinct towards people who were hurting as much as her or worse. She felt the hits of irritation start to boil in her system once again.

"Desperate? For what?" she questioned. "You don't know anything about me."

"For an answer," he replied simply.

"An answer to what?" she asked again, getting more irritated by his short and snappy replies.

"To whether it's possible for you to let love enter your heart again."

Her eyes snapped up at that, going hard. She felt the rush of pain mixed with madness cloud her entire system and her immediate instinct was to punch something. So her arm just raised in an automatic reaction, and her hand was directed straight at his face.

Cloud blocked her before she could even touch his face. His hand reached out and clasped her wrist, preventing her from trying anything physical with him. His eyes were trained on her, never leaving hers. Lightning looked at him, unsurprised that he would block her punch, but amazed at how strong his grip was on her wrist. He knew he had hit a nerve. But at least he was willing to admit it. She wasn't.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, letting some disbelief creep into his facial expression. "You know, I'm looking for the answer to that question too. But at least I'm willing to admit it."

At that, her eyes widened, and she shook his grip off her, and looked down. "That's enough," she said. "This was stupid. I'm going."

She turned her body and was about to take one step away from him when his hand shot out and grasped her toned arm.

She looked at his hand on her bicep and cast a sharp look sideways at him.

"But maybe you're right," he voiced. "And I do need your help after all."

That was the start of their journey. It was different, to say the least. Different from how normal people would meet and start becoming friends. But then again, they were no normal people. They weren't like anyone else. If anything, Cloud and Lightning were the abnormal ones. But that was how they met. In the midst of their troubled lives, they met in a fight where, in the end, there were no losers, because they reaped the reward of meeting each other.

They continued like that, for many years, but journeying together. Eventually, on one fair night when the stars were out and the sky was clear and beautiful, Cloud stepped up to Lightning and claimed her lips for the first time. He trailed kisses from her neck to her mouth, resulting in gasps of pleasure that she didn't think she could ever experience again. When their brilliant blue eyes met in that starry moment which they would never forget, they both knew they had found the answer to the question that brought them together in the first place.

It was possible.

* * *

A/N: The song that I feel is fitting for this is "Life Without You" by Stanfour (those are the lyrics written above below the title) – I'm imagining this to be the song that tells the prequel of their individual stories before they meet. Go check that out if you haven't heard it. And thank you, dear reader, for reading this, if you ever do. And please do leave me a review below, as I will respond very happily to you. Cheers and thank you once again.


End file.
